Description
At first, it’s the perfect night: you’ve won a coveted voucher to the city’s most luxurious hotel, where glittering chandeliers, endless champagne, and smiling staff make it feel like a dream. But as the hours pass, the glamour cracks—guests repeat the same phrases, waiters seem to multiply, and the exits seal shut. Phones die, mirrors shift, and laughter turns hollow. The party was never a prize—it’s a trap, and the hotel itself hungers for those who stepped inside.
Author's Note
You think you’ve struck gold: a voucher for an exclusive evening at the world's most prestigious hotel, the kind of place you’ve only ever seen in glossy magazines. From the moment you step inside, you’re bathed in opulence—marble floors that gleam like mirrors, chandeliers scattering golden light across velvet carpets, staff so attentive it feels as if they’ve been waiting just for you. The air carries the heady scent of wine and roses, and the grand ballroom hums with polished laughter, string music, and the clink of crystal glasses. For a while, it feels like a dream come true, a reward for your ordinary life. But as the night stretches on, something changes. You notice details that don’t quite fit. The same smiling waiter serves you three times in a row, though you last saw him across the room. Guests laugh at jokes you never heard, then fall eerily silent when you pass. One man repeats the same toast word-for-word, his glass trembling in his hand. You brush it off, until you check your phone—no signal. None of the doors will budge. The elevators are frozen, their lights dim. When you turn back to the ballroom, the paintings on the walls seem different, their figures watching you. The glamour unravels. Conversations loop like broken records, faces blur into hollow masks, and the music continues though the musicians sit motionless. A guest collapses, vomiting black fluid, but no one screams—the staff simply drag them away, smiling as if it were routine. Mirrors show reflections that don’t belong to you, corridors twist into impossible loops, and the once-beautiful feast rots into worms and ash between blinks. It dawns slowly, then all at once: this party wasn’t a gift. It was a lure. The voucher wasn’t a stroke of luck but an invitation to a ritual, a game, a trap from which there may be no escape. The hotel is not just a building but a living entity, feeding on fear, delighting in your confusion, reshaping reality around you. The “guests” are no longer guests at all—they are fragments, echoes, victims who came before and never left. Now, you must survive the night in a place that does not want you to leave. The party goes on forever, and you are the entertainment.
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